


For crying out loud, settle down

by RunawayCaboose



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, But no, Claustrophobia, M/M, Mario Party, Thyme, or at least one that has a light in it, team has game night, you'd think that they could afford a bigger pantry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6251458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayCaboose/pseuds/RunawayCaboose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz had not told them, why would he need to? They already looked at him like he was damaged, broken. They didn’t need anymore evidence to reinforce their theory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For crying out loud, settle down

Fitz had not told them, why would he need to? They already looked at him like he was damaged, broken. They didn’t need anymore evidence to reinforce their theory.

Plus, Skye had been so happy when she showed him his bunk, all decorated and nice, ‘for my best science buddy’ she had said. She didn’t need to know about how uncomfortable the small room made him, how weak he was in enclosed spaces, how he would freeze up. Instead, he slept in the lab, saying he stayed up too late working, or in the communal room. They didn’t need to know. He hid it well. Until he didn’t.

Mack was cooking something, what it was Fitz didn’t know, but, damn, it smelled good.

“Fitz, can you get the thyme from the pantry?”

“Uh, sure.” Fitz slid off the bar stool, he wasn’t shaking, not at all.

“Careful of the door, it gets jammed.” Skye said, trying to sneak some of the food. Fitz clenched his fists and opened the pantry door, stepping in, carefully. He scanned the shelves, looking for they thyme, thyme, thy-

The door slammed shut, making him lurch forward into the shelves, canisters of spices falling to the ground. His hands scrabbled against the door knob, but it wouldn’t turn. He was trapped, trapped, trapped, he couldn’t get out. Any minute now the water would come rushing in and it was so dark, the water was going to come in he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t bre-

“Turbo?” A tapping noise on the door pulled Fitz from his panic. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked. “Yeah. Door’s jammed.”

“I’ve sent Skye to get my tool box, alright, Turbo?” Fitz was still breathing too fast, too fast.

“Alright, y-yeah.” He clenched his fist, cutting small half moon into his palm. He was alright, he was fine, Mack was getting him out, he was fine, fine, fin-

Something dripped on his hoe. It was the water, it was coming he could feel it, he needed out. Fitz stepped back as far as he could in the tight space and slammed his body into the door. He fell forward into the light as the door flew open. He took a deep breath and stood, looking at the pantry. Spices were everywhere and a bottle of oil was oozing across shelves and onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. Fitz looked away.

“You alright, Turbo?” Mack attempted to put a hand on his shoulder, but Fitz ducked away.

“Yeah, you were taking too long.” Fitz walked away, desperately trying to hide his shaking.

He went down to the lab, thinking work would take his mind off things. The techies scurried away from him and he pretended not to notice, it wasn’t hard. He set to work, doing menial tasks to help slow his racing mind, not that it helped much. The chatter of the techies was cut off as the door slid shut behind them.

The lights shut off, leaving only the dim red glow of emergency lights. Of course, the power reboot, every Thursday. Today was Thursday.

“Stupid, stupid Fitz!” He hissed, throwing his goggles to the floor. He should have known, should have known that it was Thursday. He tried the doors, but to no avail. They were sealed shut, he knew this already. His breathing became quicker as he tried to pry open the doors with his short fingernails. What had happened to his nails, oh, yes, he had bitten them down. He knew it, he could tell, the water was going to come in, it was too small. He stumbled backwards, sending a beaker crashing to the floor. The water, the wat-

The lights switched on, humming slightly. When the techies returned, they found Fitz standing over broken glass, but he pushed past them without saying anything.

He would have gone to his room, it was too tight, too small, so he went to the living room, hoping that people could tell that he wanted to be left alone. He curled into a ball on the end of the sofa, putting a pillow next to him.

He sat there in semi-consciousness as the world moved around him. His thoughts were too fast, white noise in his head and he wasn’t focused, fading in and out, barely breathing.

He squeaked and was torn out of his blissful unawareness as Hunter flopped onto the opposite side of the couch. He blinked and looked around at the rest of the team positioning themselves around the room.

“Joining us for game night?” SKye asked, sitting next to Hunter. She was close, but still a good half cushion away.

“Uh, sure.” Fitz said, shifting slightly. Skye offered up her controller, but he shook his head. “I’ll watch.” She shrugged.

“Trying to keep your video game dignity intact, unlike Coulson over here?” Phil snorted.

“That was a fluke. And I was drunk.” Simmons ducked into the room.

“We doing Mario Party again?” She took the only seat open, next to Fitz. She moved his cushion, his barrier, reaching across him and putting it on the sofa arm instead. Fitz stopped paying attention to the banter and focused his mind on not freaking out. Simmons’ leg bumped against his and his breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t freak out, not here, not with the team here, no, no, no, he couldn’t. The background speech became a buzz and it was loud, too loud, and he didn’t have enough space, it was too tight and there were too many people and he was breathing much too quick-

“Fitz, are you alright?” SImmons sounded like she was underwater, water, water, it was too bright. She pressed a hand to his forehead, but he flinched away. He couldn’t breathe, he was choking, and everything was too close, too close, too close.

“Fitz.” Mack’s voice cut through and he realized that Simmons had stood up. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“It’s too l-loud!” Fitz wasn’t crying, but he was close to it, hands tangled in his hair. “A-and ev-every-everything is too close, and I’m- I’m- I’m-”

“Claustrophobic?” Mack interjected. Fitz nodded quickly.

“ANd it’s a bad day and I’ve b-been so stupid and- and- and e-everything is too close!’ 

Fitz’s hands tightened their grip on his hair.

“Don’t touch him!” Mack growled and someone moved away. “Fitz.” He said in a gentler tone. “I’m going to touch you, okay?’ Fitz shifted as Mack began rubbing circles on his back. “I’m gonna need you to breathe with me, alright?”

“I c-can’t.” Fitz tucked his head further down between his legs.

“Yes, you can. Alright, 1-2-3, in. 1-2-3, out. 1-2-3, in. See, you got it.” Fitz’s breathing slowed remarkably. “Can you look at me, Turbo?” Fitz shook his head. “They’re all gone.” Fitz looked up slowly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I should be. Sorry, normally I deal with this by myself.” Mack blinked.

“You do this by yourself? Jesus, Turbo… Next time, call me, okay? I’ll come help you.” Fitz blinked and nodded. “You’re claustrophobic?”  Fitz nodded again.

“I was almost drowned in a box.” Mack nodded.

“Understandable. I’m going to talk to Couls-”

“No.” Fitz whispered, wrapping his hand around Mack’s arm. “Stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> heyo that's done. have fun ? 
> 
> comment if you have any stuff you'd like me to write
> 
> and check out my other Fitzmack, you know, if you want


End file.
